Heart! Even now, alone, content, why do you speak?
Pickin' those tender twinned strings of your lyre
With your fingers slender; casting your song to seek
Oil painted visions of her sweet drenching figure,
Shining golden light over her warms my pumping blood.
Why? Why do I care? The eyes alert have seen
What ears failed to detect; messages which easily could
Cause faint trouble of blue. The moon swims in her inky stream,
Night controls mother earth in her gloomy flood
And the little wingéd cherubim sails within my loving dream.
Heart, you attached my thoughts on her, sly madam or sir!
As hard as I pull, can not pull down the urge to be with her.